A.N. Hernández - Summer 2006

I cannot remember the exact day I decided I wanted to be a journalist, but I can say that my love affair with words has been long standing and embedded in every decision of my life.

Growing up in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas, I remember days, regardless of the season, were long and hot. I remember lying on the linoleum floor of the kitchen to cool down, while my father paced the house reading García Lorca or the newspaper aloud. Other times, on these hot, long days, my mother, dragged my brother and me to the library where I curled up with books. While reading, my young mind was set free to meet people and travel places I never could have imagined. It was among the stacks and the smell of books that I decided I wanted to be a writer.

Ah, the romanticized ideas of being a writer! I wanted to be one. I wanted to type on typewriters and make a living off of what I wrote. I wanted to be one of those people who carried notepads in their pockets and scribbled down everything they saw. I wanted to surround myself with like-minded people who thrived off conversations about punctuation, current events and people. I wanted to sit over lunch and debate very passionately about the spelling of words and whether the usage of an ellipsis in an article was allowable. But, more than anything, I felt compelled to type and write and type until I was sick of it, only to rise the next day to lovingly begin the cycle again. I had the itch to write, and it seems only natural to me as I look back that I would become a journalist.

While attending a medical-magnet high school in San Antonio, I was introduced to the school’s newspaper, and I got a hint of a journalist’s lifestyle. I often stayed after school or came in on Saturdays just to meet deadline. I edited my stories as I lay in bed, ready to fall asleep, only to awaken in the morning on crumpled versions of what I had been so eager to set straight the night before. I hectically ran around class, obsessing over wording, my heart pumping as I came up with a great lead, only to have it marked through with Mr. Guevara’s glaring purple pen. I dabbled in photography, newspaper design and editing, and I loved it. I was hooked on the prospect of being a journalist, and I have made a decision that journalism will be my life.

I am a senior at Texas State University-San Marcos working toward a double major in print journalism and anthropology. Meanwhile, I am developing an honors thesis about teaching poetry to children, which I will present this fall at a poster session in Philadelphia. During my internship at the Scripps Howard Foundation Wire, I hope to gain many skills that I may incorporate into my reporting at The University Star and beyond.

Other likes, beside journalism, include the poetry of Charles Bukowski, NPR, Indian food, floating the San Marcos River and Mayan archaeology.

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